


Too Long to Wait: In the Beginning

by claudia603



Series: Too Long to Wait [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Interspecies, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-18
Updated: 2010-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/pseuds/claudia603
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn waits for Frodo to return home on a rainy evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Long to Wait: In the Beginning

Aragorn glanced at the wall clock in his chamber yet again. He   
sighed with impatience. A thundering rain rattled against the   
windows. Where was that hobbit? That morning Frodo had set off   
for the nearest village outside the gates of Minas Tirith. He   
had been asked to talk to the children at a local schoolhouse   
about his experience in Mordor. He had looked forward to it.   
Aragorn felt a surge of affection for him. Frodo made it his   
mission to make certain that nobody ever forgot how close they   
had come to darkness.

Frodo had said he'd be home an hour earlier. Well, the rain had   
no doubt delayed him. Aragorn sighed. He hadn't seen it rain   
this hard in months.

He had glanced again at the clock when Frodo burst into the   
room, soaked and shivering. Aragorn let out a sigh of relief.   
Frodo's cloak dripped, leaving a puddle around his hairy feet.   
His little hands were pink with cold. Aragorn stood to greet   
him. "I was beginning to get worried!"

"I am sorry, Aragorn," Frodo said, peeling off his sopping   
cloak. His jacket and trousers were splashed with mud. "As you   
can see, I was delayed."

"You need not have made the trip in this weather. The children   
would have understood. How was the pony?"

"He rode beautifully. Didn't complain about the rain at all. He   
did get stuck in the mud just outside the city gates. A kind   
soldier helped me pull him out. I was about to despair! That's   
why I'm so dirty."

"Did you get the name of the soldier?"

"Yes. His name is Roron. I thanked him profusely."

"I will reward him with extra leave this year," Aragorn said   
with a smile. He helped Frodo out of his cloak and wet jacket.

Frodo breathed over the food, enclosed in silver covers. "It   
smells delicious. I'm so glad you waited for me."

"I nearly sent it back to the kitchen, hobbit."

Frodo's eyebrows shot up as he lifted the silver covers off the   
dishes. He smiled in delight. "Oh, no you don't! What a   
beautiful spread. And wine, too. Is it a special occasion?"

Aragorn smiled at him. It seemed that lately he only really   
smiled when he was around Frodo. "Don't you remember? Ten years   
ago today we met at the Prancing Pony."

"Oh!" Frodo blushed. His smile lit his blue eyes. "So it was."

"Come, Frodo, change out of those wet clothes." Aragorn said. "I   
won't have you catching your death of cold."

"Yes, I will," Frodo said. "I smell quite putrid from the mud."

Aragorn was struck by how beautiful and youthful Frodo still   
looked. Technically he was over sixty, but he still looked like   
a hobbit just out of his tweens. Even though the Ring had been   
destroyed, he had not aged dramatically. With the exception of   
the wretched anniversary illnesses he suffered from as a result   
of the toil with the Ring, he was in perfect health.

Aragorn looked back with affection on the past nine years with   
Frodo. He had never regretted his decision to ask Frodo to stay   
with him. He had loved Frodo from the moment he had laid eyes   
on him in Bree. He had become quickly enamored of his   
expressive sapphire eyes, his lyrical laugh, his bravery, and   
his determination. He would never forget the fierce ache in his   
chest on Amon Hen when Frodo had left him to go to Mordor alone.   
Many sleepless nights had followed, full of the agony of   
uncertainty. He had had no way of knowing from day to day   
whether Frodo still lived. When the eagles had brought Frodo   
and Sam back, battered but alive, he had thought his heart would   
burst with gladness. Frodo had survived, and Aragorn had given   
up the continuation of a new line of kings. He had mild regret   
about that last, but he would not give up Frodo, even for a   
hundred heirs.

Frodo returned to the table a fresh white shirt and new   
trousers. "I'm ready to eat."

"Of course you are." Aragorn affectionately caressed his cheek.   
He pulled Frodo to him and kissed him on his soft lips. "Let me   
pour the wine."

Frodo pulled out of his embrace and sat in his chair. "I am   
starving. I haven't eaten all day."

"That's quite a plight for a hobbit." Aragorn poured the wine   
into goblets. "Why ever not? Did they not serve you lunch at   
the schoolhouse?"

"Yes, but I felt sick all morning. I think something I ate last   
night didn't agree with me. Or perhaps it was nerves, though I   
don't usually get nervous talking in front of people."

"I'm glad you're feeling better now."

Aragorn tried to hide his concern. Frodo did look more pale than   
usual, but Aragorn had learned from experience that Frodo hated   
to be fussed over.

"So how was it?" Aragorn asked, serving Frodo and then himself   
some of the delicious rice and meat dish.

"It was wonderful," Frodo said. "The children were very   
interested. The schoolmaster was very kind. He gave me the best   
seat he could find and had the children gather around me. I felt   
big and important. They were especially fascinated about hearing   
about my finger. That's always what fascinates the children the   
most. They were adorable, the little ones were."

Frodo held out his hand so that his stub was in view. Aragorn   
took Frodo's hand in his and kissed the stub.

"How was your day?" Frodo asked.

"It was relatively calm today. It looks like the emissaries   
from Dunland will be arriving tomorrow. Which reminds me—would   
you be able to help me?"

"Certainly," Frodo said. "What would you have me do?"

"In between sessions of council, I will need to speak to some of   
the men individually. I would appreciate it—and I know this will   
bore you to tears—if you could wait in the council and when it   
ends, you could lead the men to eat, chat with them, charm them   
the best you can. I'm going to need all the help I can to win   
these men over. They are not pleased with the terms of the   
kingdom as of now."

Frodo gave Aragorn a wry smile as he nibbled on a piece of   
bread. "You want me to charm a group of men who are determined   
to dislike you?"

"If anyone can do it, you can," Aragorn said. "But if you really   
don't want to do it—"

"Of course I'll do it. I just find it rather amusing. Whatever   
will I talk to them about?"

Aragorn placed a hand over Frodo's maimed hand. "You can show   
them your stub."

Frodo laughed and pulled his hand away. Aragorn poured more   
wine into his goblet. He stood and beckoned Frodo to the   
loveseat. "We'll be more comfortable over here."

Frodo joined him and leaned against him, curling against his   
chest. Aragorn reveled in the feel of Frodo's silky hair. He   
thoroughly enjoyed evenings like this. After a long day, to   
escape to his chamber and spend a peaceful evening with the one   
he loved was the sweetest reward for his toils.

END


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